


digging up the grave another time

by redravenrum



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Album: folklore (Taylor Swift), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Taylor Swift, M/M, School Reunion, Slow Burn, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redravenrum/pseuds/redravenrum
Summary: As Jughead raised his glass to toast, he thought about his old friend. The red haired host with the most that took the spot at the head of the table with ease, and clinked glasses with those around him. Jughead thought about what would be like to be at his side. He thought about what it could be like if things had gone different all those years ago, and they had made it after all. He thought about every step that led to this moment, and, as he had for years, about everything that he could have done to get a different outcome. A better one.For a moment, he locked eyes with Archie across the table. Archie, who smiled, and nodded towards him. And in that moment, he let himself wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late.(or, a jarchie folklore fic. buckle up swifites we're going track by track with ten years older jarchie.)
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge, jarchie centric but beronica is there and betty and jughead are gay bffs
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. the 1

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything of substance in half a year, so obviously i'm getting back into the swing of things with a jarchie ten years later au inspired by taylor swift. the title comes from "the 1" but if i keep to my outline, every song will get a chapter by the time it's over.  
> updates weekly. hopefully. not every chapter will be this long but. i'm very excited can you tell.

Jughead didn’t want to return to Riverdale for his class’s ten year reunion. It wasn’t enough time, in his opinion, to require all the pomp and circumstance. But Betty begged him last time they were both back in town for J.B.’s graduation, and he didn’t have the heart to let her down, even if it meant spending a week in a town full of ghosts: a town that had haunted him since he’d left it a decade ago.

He spent his twelve hour drive from Chicago to Riverdale tense. He’d moved out there because he liked the arm’s length that 800 miles gave him from his hometown, but it was times like these that he realized what a burden it really was. It gave him plenty of time to sit and work himself up over what would happen this week: had he moved to Philly like his father had advised him, maybe every gas stop along the way wouldn’t have been a reminder to unfurl his brow and let go of the tension that sat between his shoulders, that had worked up after miles of country roads.

He had to remind himself that the worst of the town with pep was behind him. It’d been years since anything had gone seriously awry in Riverdale (it was just his luck, he figured, that the dark cloud of gloom and doom over the town had followed him onlyand dissipated the second he set out West). He had to remind himself that at this point, he was practically a tourist in the lives of those that lived here, he wasn’t expected to re-insert himself into their stories. He had to remind himself that the old Andrews’ house next door had been bought by a family from Greendale after Archie shipped out, and the chance of them bumping into each other before Jughead had the chance to prepare was next to none. That time to prepare was something he was banking on, as he needed as much time as he could get to work up the nerve to visit with his old friend.

Still, after reminding himself of all these things like mantras as he passed every mile marker along the way, muscle memory almost got the better of him as he pulled down Elm Street. He almost pulled into the driveway of the little yellow house next door. But he stopped himself just in time and instead parked on the curb in front of the Smith-Cooper-Jones estate.

* * *

Jughead braced himself as he opened the front door. His father and Alice could be heard rooms over in the kitchen, the dulcet tones of Blondie wafted down the stairs from Jellybean’s room, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed. It was as if he was just home from school, dropping off his books before going to snoop around with Betty, or heading to a football game.

But the difference was marked by his father’s reaction. F.P. wrapped his son in a hug with the kind of ferocity saved for reunions of this manner. It was still something he was acclimating to: this image of his father and Alice Smith living like the Cleavers. For the son who’d helped to keep F.P. afloat during his darkest days, it was a shock to see him be a part of this little vignette, like he had always been this bear hugging, supportive father. Like he had always felt this joy to see his son walk through the door. But, all the same, he hugged his father back.

“Hey, big city,” F.P. said, rubbing Jughead’s arm. 

“Hey, Dad. And Alice,” Jughead tacked on, calling towards the kitchen.

Alice wiped her hands on a dishtowel as she spoke, letting F.P. have his moment. “We’d figured you’d hooked the turn across the border, didn’t know if you were ever going to make it.”

“If I’d known Dad was going for the seven-year hug, I would have come a little earlier.”

F.P. took the hint, and let Jughead go, but clapped hands on his shoulder for just a moment longer before fully releasing him. It’s a moment too long though, that Jughead has to look into his father’s eyes, and for a moment he misses his old worn beanie, and the way he could fiddle with it in times like this.

“Boy, you’re skin and bones. We’ve got to get you down to Pop’s ASAP,”

“I’m heading that way if he needs a ride,” a familiar voice offered.

Jughead had almost missed Betty in the living room. Which is surprising, because it felt like anymore, Betty was such a force to be reckoned with that she’d be hard to miss. Her energy filled the room. She’d recently finished up her doctorate in psychology, moved into a penthouse Jughead deemed entirely too large, and gotten engaged to Veronica before the summer started. When she smiled at him, it was with unbridled joy, different from the restrained grins of years past. He wished he could reciprocate that.

"Where are you going?" Jughead asked, pushing his dufflebag into the corner of the foyer before entering the living room to greet Betty.

From wrapped inside his hug she replied. “I’m picking up Veronica up there and then we’re going to Archie’s for dinner. But if we leave soon, I think a little milkshake pregame would be more than acceptable, if you’ll have us.”

Though the mention of their plans with Archie tonight is almost enough to push him to reconsider, Jughead smiled. "You know I can't say no to Pop's."

* * *

Jughead and Betty sat across from each other in a booth at Pop’s. This was by no means new: it had been like this a hundred times before, but at this point, it felt so foreign. He wore no hat, and she had shed her signature ponytail, letting her hair fall in blonde waves, tucked behind her ears as she studied the diner’s menu. How strange it was, they looked like tourists in their own hometown, and not those same kids that had made this very booth home all those years ago. 

But the diner itself had stayed the same. Pop Tate's old neon lights and metal signs still littered the walls and the seats at the bar had the same red leather tops. It was nice to know that while so much in Riverdale had changed, Pop's was a staple, frozen in time, unchanged. Or at least it was, until he realized something was off.

“These are new booths,” Jughead noticed aloud.

“Veronica had to replace them a couple of years ago. The old ones were starting to dry rot, especially the ones by the jukebox,” Betty explained, matter-of-factly before looking up from her menu. “Did you really not notice until now?”

"Why wouldn't she just reupholster the old ones? It would've been cheaper."

"Tell me when you've known Veronica Lodge to take the cheap way out."

Jughead couldn't argue with that, so he didn't. They ordered shakes and fries from a fresh faced waitress Jughead didn't recognize before getting into it.

"How was your drive out?" Betty asked.

Jughead sighed. "It was fine. While I stand by the fact that I've crafted the perfect driving playlist, even that sometimes isn't enough to distract from the terrifying ordeal of a crusade to your hometown."

"You're so dramatic. What's so terrifying about Riverdale these days? We've kind of been through the worst of it. You should be fearless."

"The usual stuff. Dad stuff. Serpent stuff," he shrugged, leaning back into the booth and placing his hands on the tabletop. "This is the first time I've really been here since Archie moved back."

"You don't have to worry about Archie."

"I wouldn't say I'm worried, exactly. It was just something to think about," he explained. In a lot of ways though, he was worried. Things were strained between them the last time they spoke, it was the reason they had gone so long without seeing each other. He didn't want to spoil this weekend for everyone else by bringing their old drama back into the light.

"You're coming tonight, right?" Betty asked.

"I don't know."

"Come on, Jug. Everyone wants to see you."

"I'm here all week, I'll have time to see people."

"You know, he really wants you to come."

This piqued Jughead's interest. It sounded too good to be true. "He didn't say that."

"He did," Betty said before raising a hand. "Scout's honor. I wouldn't be surprised if it's why he's having people over. He's excited to see you."

"Weird..."

"It's not weird. You guys were best friends your whole lives. And what happened before he left aside, that's important to him. You know how Archie is."

"Loyal to a fault," Jughead admitted. "It just feels like it could be for the best to leave well enough alone. We're Facebook friends still, you know. And I kinda like that he only gets to see this nicely packaged, idealized version of me. And I get to do the same for him. It keeps things easy."

"Come to the party. If you're miserable, we'll tell everybody you have food poisoning and go camp out in the Bijou for the rest of the night. All the popcorn you can eat, my treat."

"Fine. But we're not going light on the butter. You're gonna make it worth my while."

Betty rolled her eyes before continuing to reassure Jughead that tonight would be fine. But he could feel that dark cloud forming again over him as he understood in the next few hours, he'd have to make small talk with someone who once knew him better than anyone in this wicked little town.

* * *

When they showed up at Archie’s, everyone else was there. Whether this was due to Veronica’s insistence that they be fashionably late, or the way Jughead had dragged his heels out of Pop's, no one could be sure, but the new Andrew’s home’s living room was already full of familiar faces. But there was only one Jughead was looking for, and it was no where to be seen, until he came bounding out of the back of the house with a roar.

“Alright, now the party can get started!”

Archie had, somehow, not changed at all since the last time Jughead had seen him. It’d been years, at this point, but as he came to greet them at the door, it was like no time had passed. He smiled that same stupid smile, the one that had pulled Jughead through football games, battle of the bands, and plenty of schemes over the years, and he couldn’t help but smile back. 

But while Archie's smile was the same, plenty had changed. His smile was framed by a rust-colored scruff, something of a patchwork beard he had been working on. The lines on his forehead were deeper, reminiscent of his father’s, but that came with the same unmistakable warmth of Fred Andrews, the kind that, even to a nervous and uncertain Jughead, was welcoming.

When he got to the front door, Archie pulled Betty and Veronica into a hug, one under each arm, and gave a squeeze to each shoulder. “Glad you guys finally decided to show.”

“Oh, my sweet Archikins, still so naive. Haven’t you heard that you’re dealing with one of Gorbes Magazine’s 29 Under 29 business moguls? You can’t expect one of the nation’s top restaurateurs to step away from her work so easily,” Veronica mused, only partially joking as she flashed her credentials.

Lodge Industries had done quite well since Veronica had taken the helm. After successfully dipping her toe in a few different pools before she had even graduated high school, after she’d graduated business school, it wasn’t long before she took Red Raven Rum nationwide and started what would soon become a franchise of restaurants inspired by the small town diner that had been her lifeline through high school. She had considered lifting the name Pop’s, but decided that was best kept a Riverdale secret, so instead, Fred’s Diner spread across the country. 

“That title must have some with a cash prize, look at these rings!” Archie feigned shock as he lifted Betty and Veronica’s hands. Of course rings hand selected by Veronica Lodge herself would have a sort of extravagance to them that you didn’t often see in Riverdale. They were nearly a novelty at this point, but at the same time, the way she talked about Betty made it seem like this kind of glamour was only fitting for what she swore was the greatest love story to ever be told.

"Nothing but the best for _mi corazon_." Veronica beamed.

Archie released Betty and Veronica, and looked at Jughead for a moment. It were as if his wheels were turning, as if he hadn't practiced how he would greet him on and off for years. As if this moment wasn't something he had been waiting for, maybe even dreaming of.

Ultimately, the pause was minuscule, practically nothing to anyone who wasn't Jughead. It only took a brief lapse before Archie painted on that same kind smile, and grabbed his hand to pull him into a much quicker, single armed hug. It was the physical gesture equivalent of friendzoning, their hands remained a buffer between them, but, it was better than nothing, so Jughead reciprocated.

"Good to see you, man. It's been too long," Archie said.

And Jughead wanted to badly to believe he meant it.

Archie released Jughead, and started to edge his way out of the room. "You guys come on into the kitchen, let me get you drinks," he offered.

"I'd die for a vermouth on the rocks," Veronica said, clapping her hands together.

"I don't know if I'm that well stocked, Ronnie, but we'll, uh, see what we can do."

And as Archie and the two great loves of his life started towards the kitchen, Jughead held back. "You guys go ahead, I'm gonna go say hi to Toni first."

Betty pursed her lips, and Jughead had to look away, lest she guilt him into following along. 

Archie nodded. "Alright, dude. But we'll have to catch up soon, okay?"

And Jughead nodded back. But he'd put off that catching up as long as he could.

* * *

Jughead, instead of bee-lining to Toni, took stock of who else had shown. Various Bulldogs stood guard around the island in the kitchen with wives Jughead didn’t recognize. They're the types that teenagers like him had assured himself would have peaked in high school, but right now, at least, they seemed happy. Sure, they'd never left their hometowns, something Jughead had decided was a point of pride, something that really marked making it, but they had lives here. They had each other here. So sticking around couldn't have been all that bad.

In the dining room sat Reggie and Kevin, talking passionately about something with Valerie and Chuck. Some things still took him off guard to see, and while the redemption of Chuck Clayton was old news at this point, Reggie and Kevin's involvement was still jarring. But they seemed happy: they had just moved into a place together in San Francisco, and there was a way that Reggie lit up as he spoke about it that almost made Jughead smile. Even the most abrasive of meatheads could find ways to embrace their truth, and someone who would embrace them for it.

He found Toni eventually, back in the living room where he'd started. She sat with Cheryl by her side, obviously, and they were surrounded by other Serpents. He recognized Fangs and Sweet Pea among their ranks, but other faces were unfamiliar. It'd been so long since he had visited them, he hadn't kept up with who had joined up in the past handful of years. All he knew was that even between their own family, Toni and Cheryl had made time to be their fearless queens, and he figured those were better hands than his had ever been.

For a moment, Jughead felt self-conscious, that he doesn’t have more to show at this point. He listened to Cheryl and Toni muse about their kids, all five of them, and looked at the gallery’s worth of photos of Reggie and Kevin’s grand foyer, and he had little to show for himself. In a way, he knew no one had ever expected that of him though. Jughead Jones’ reputation wasn’t being the marrying type. It wasn’t one of someone who was particularly paternal, or someone you could imagine throwing himself into the gentle domesticity of settling down with someone.

If anything, they seemed most expectant to hear about his work, which happened to be an exceptionally sore subject these days. After his first novel was published to a moderate amount of fanfare, things fizzled out. His second book hadn't sold, and while he's started to fiddle with a third, but things just weren't happening. And this was supposed to be his thing. He was a brooding artist, his only solace through years trapped in Riverdale had been writing, and now he wasn't even able to do that right. He was living in a hole in the wall, freelancing to get by, and he hated that it made him feel inadequate.

Because at the end of the day, was it not enough that he was still alive? After the youth he had, he wore that almost as a badge. Maybe he wasn't an uber famous literary wunderkind. But he has a few pretentious friends he frequents coffee shops with. He made time to go see foreign films on Sunday afternoons. When he woke up, he didn't worry that every day would be his last. That should count for something, as far as Jughead was concerned.

* * *

Dinner was laid out within the hour, and everyone huddled around the dining room table, as well as the few card tables littered around it to accommodate all of Archie's guests. Jughead maneuvered through the room, looking to take a seat next to Betty (since, regardless of her proximity to Archie, she was his lifeline tonight), but he was cut off as he pulled out the chair by Cheryl Blossom.

"Thank you, Scissorhands," she said, sliding into the seat. "I hope you don't mind, but I was hoping to catch up with my dearest cousin tonight. You do seem to hoard her whenever you're around, I'm sure you'll get to make up for lost time."

Betty looked at Jughead apologetically, and he conceded. "My mistake."

The only open seat was down the table, between Moose and Ethel. Jughead sat reluctantly, wishing he could call out to Betty, and take her up on that movie deal. But she looked happy and he didn't have the nerve to draw any more attention to himself. So instead, he just kept to himself, shoveling whatever casserole was in front of him onto his plate.

He had plenty of time to look over the table and reflect. It was strange, Jughead decided, that his and Archie's roles had reversed so much in the past ten years. If you had told him fifteen years ago that when he returned to Riverdale for his ten year high school reunion, he would get to come home to a home on Elm Street, where his family had lived quietly and comfortably for over a decade, where he had rounded out his high school experience being raised alongside his sister and Betty Cooper, he wouldn’t have bought it. The boy who’d squatted at the drive-in and in the locker rooms and on a cot in Archie Andrews’ bedroom wasn’t predisposed to dreaming that big. He had figured he'd have only a handful of serpents maybe, and Archie and Betty, if they weren't married and living far from Riverdale by now.

If you had told him on the other side of that coin, that it would be Archie who’d reunite with his sprawling found family, that would have to forge his own path in the world after losing so much, he would be certain you were lying. Archie wasn't meant to go through that. He was supposed to have a nice, quiet life. He was supposed to start his own family in the yellow home on Elm Street or move to the West Village to play music little artsy cafes. The hardships, the loss, the sleepless nights, and settling were supposed to be Jughead's deal, never Archie's. Archie deserved better out of life, even if he sat at the table now, seemingly composed, resilient against it all. But, he supposes that it would be odd, if he drew the line of what he would believe there, after all that they had already gone through together in Riverdale.

But here they were all the same, at a table of peers, nay, a chosen family, that had been gathered by one red-haired golden boy.

“I’d like to make a toast," Archie started, cutting off scattered conversation and lifting a little tin cup. "To old friends. And new, but mostly old. Growing up in Riverdale… I’d say it’s like a cult, but we all know that’s a little too real,” he laughed, “but we made it through it together. And even if times like this, where we can all be under one roof again are few and far in between, they’re good. They’re really good. And I couldn't be more happy to see all of you. So, yeah. To old friends.”

As Jughead raised his glass to toast, he thought about his old friend. The red haired host with the most that took the spot at the head of the table with ease, and clinked glasses with those around him. Jughead thought about what would be like to be at his side. He thought about what it could be like if things had gone different all those years ago, and they had made it after all. He thought about every step that led to this moment, and, as he had for years, about everything that he could have done to get a different outcome. A better one.

But for a moment, he locked eyes with Archie across the table. Archie, who smiled, and nodded towards him. And in that moment, he let himself wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late.

But there has always been a dark shroud that followed Jughead Jones. And he knew that, logically, the time for daydreams of a life with Archie Andrews had long past. Things like that didn’t work for him, not in Riverdale, at least.


	2. cardigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead bites off more than he can chew when Veronica hits him with a proposal that will keep him in close quarters with Archie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two uploads for our first weekend because why not! i also realized weekly updates has me finishing after the new year and that made my brain short circuit a little. so, enjoy chapter 2!

As Archie had decreed during dinner, this week was for old friends. And dinner at his house had turned out to be the perfect start to that. After a meal and mingling everyone slipped out to the front porch for a hearty Springsteen sing-a-long led by Archie himself. 

Jughead stood leaned in the doorway, a coffee mug of red wine in his hand, and watched as the festivities continued. He wondered at first if this was his opportunity to slip away without anyone noticing, but then it was all too enthralling: he too could be stuck in his spot watching Archie and his old guitar stand in the front yard, engaged in a hearty rendition of “Thunder Road” with Cheryl and Kevin by his sides. To watch him, in worn Levi’s and an old community center fundraiser t-shirt, dancing and singing and smiling and having what Jughead could only assume was the time of his life with the people who loved him the most, was to see him in his prime. 

Jughead could hardly look away.

Because this was how things went with them. Jughead had worked Archie up in his head to be someone he wasn't. He had worked him up to be someone that had held the same fear and confusion he had all these years. But that wasn’t Archie’s style- or at least, if it was, Jughead would never be able to tell, as to him, Archie was someone who took things in stride. He wasn’t like Jughead: this bitter, repressed thing, who ambled around the midwest, writing musings about a lost love and his childhood best friend. He didn’t have the same bloodstained mark on his psyche that made him cling to what they had been through.

As always, Archie was Pureheart: he cared unconditionally, he didn’t let a few sour moments soil years of love between them. He was dancing in the front porch light, he was hugging him when he walked through the door, he was letting the past be the past, and only looking towards a future of embracing those he’d chosen as his family. It should have been a testament to this that he’d remained so close with Betty and Veronica, after all they’d been through together. Years he’d spent chasing two girls only for them to find love with each other, leaving him without either one. To this, at least, Jughead could relate.

But still, Archie pulled both girls from their spots on the porch swing for a chorus of a song Jughead didn’t recognize (ironically, one where he was beckoning for someone to  _ come out  _ tonight). Jughead wishes he could be the one to push forward with that kind of grace. Instead, he stood strong in his guard at the front door, and wished he had the nerve to go join them in their dance.

* * *

By the end of the night, everyone had variations of something to get back to, and it wasn’t long before all that was left in the new Andrews’ house were the four of them: Archie, Veronica, Betty, and Jughead. And it was quieter then. Because while in the daylight, when his house was full to the brim, Archie Andrews was a friend to all. But at night, when it simmered down, the quartet would have to find their footing with one another again. The merging of the two trios, both with the future Dr. and Mrs. Lodge at the center, was something easier said than done these days. So, instead of trying to do that right off the bat, they split into pairs, Archie and Veronica taking to cleaning up out front, and Jughead and Betty taking to the kitchen.

Skilled from weekends of filling in at Pop’s, Betty came to the sink with a stack of plates surprisingly high.

Jughead knew she could more than handle a few plates and glasses, but he couldn’t stop himself from muttering “Careful.” as she closed in.

“I think we got screwed over on clean-up. There’s like, half as much stuff out front,” she said, placing the dishes down gingerly next to the sink.

“Why do I feel like Veronica orchestrated that?”

Quickly, Betty looked over her shoulder, towards where Archie and Veronica worked, before turning her back to the door, and asking softly: “So, what’s the verdict? How bad was it?”

“I mean, I had to sit next to Ethel Muggs. Remind me to thank Cheryl for that.”

“Seriously, Jughead.”

“It was fine,” Jughead settled, ready to leave it there. But there was a nagging, so he couldn’t help but ask, “Did he seem weird to you? About me, when we got here.”

“He didn’t, no. He seemed excited to see you.”

“But like, was he really? Or was he just being the bigger person?”

Betty sighed, sitting down a mug to dry. “I guess you’re right. I guess I can’t tell you with full and total confidence what Archie was actually feeling, deep down, in that moment- even though of anyone, I think I’d be closest to being able to. But in my humble opinion, I thought he seemed fine. And he’s Archie. He’s usually got his heart on his sleeve, I wouldn’t say he has a reputation as exceptionally hard to read.”

For now, Jughead could accept that answer. But as a scholar of literature, he was particularly adept at reading into things, and he knew he’d come back to that moment again and again.

* * *

As Jughead and Betty finished up in the kitchen, Veronica and Archie moved into the living room to tidy. It was quiet in the house, the two conversations keeping mostly to their own corners of the house. That was until a call from the other room shot through the quiet, loud enough that Jughead nearly jumped.

“Betty, Juggie, get in here! I’ve got the most amazing idea!” Veronica shouted.

They ambled into the living room, Jughead still drying his hands on a worn checkered dish towel. He stood behind the couch where Archie sat, facing Veronica but managing to keep out of Archie’s line of sight. 

Betty giggled at Veronica’s enthusiasm. “Pray tell, what are you thinking?”

“We should go out to the Saltbox House this weekend- it’s this property out on the coast Betty and I have been sitting on. It’s only a few hours out of town. We could go and have a little reunion of our own, and give our old salt-of-the-earth ex-beaus a moment to breathe. I can’t imagine what stress staying inland this long has caused.” Veronica punctuated her proposal with a clap and an expectant expression towards Jughead and Archie both.

Archie looked to Jughead, as if he needed his approval before making a call, but didn’t wait for long before replying. “I mean, I think that sounds great. I’m in.”

Days spent sharing a home with Archie were playing with fire. Jughead knew that. All it’d take was a car ride out’s worth of prolonged exposure to his once close friend, the one who got away, to fall back into old ways. Going out to a beach house with their engaged friends was a sick kind of playing house: an excuse for Jughead to indulge in what-ifs, the same ones that had haunted him ever since before the last time he and Archie had talked in private.

But all eyes are on him, so he answers without haste.

“Yeah, what the hell. Who am I to turn down a free vacation within a vacation?” he asked with a stilted laugh.

And then, it was set in stone. They’d leave the next afternoon. Archie would drive and they’d worry about food when they got there. They’d only stay til Monday, since Veronica obviously had a laundry list of calls to attend to and Archie needed to check in on the community center. And it would only be them, no Ethel Muggs to waste a night with, no Reggie Mantle to take over the conversation and keep things light.

In a lot of ways, that worried Jughead. A whole weekend was a lot of time, time in which quiet moments and confrontations could be held. He thought back to their little getaways in high school, and knew the precedence was there for things to get more than complicated. It’d be a minefield, to say the least, but he hoped to find a way to maneuver it in the same, pain-free way he’d intended to survive a whole week back in Riverdale.

It was because of that no-confrontation philosophy that while Archie and Betty and Veronica exchanged their hugs goodbye, Jughead lingered near the front door, hoping to look busy with his shoes till he could slip out with the rest of them without making much of a fuss. But then, in a stack of five or so books on the table in the entryway of the house, Jughead saw his own novel among them. It wasn’t at the top, and he couldn’t quite tell if the spine had been cracked (one of Archie’s worst habits, if you asked Jughead, but a dead giveaway that he’d at least tried to read it), but in a way, it felt like a sign that he had made the right choice.

* * *

Jughead found himself picking through his already limited wardrobe for the week to separate out a weekend’s worth of clothes for their little excursion. He played music low off the old CD player he’d kept on his dresser, and hummed along to keep his focus. It was times like these that his time spent living small were made useful: he didn’t need a robust selection for this, though he made note that he would have to find somewhere to buy swim trunks, lest he dare squeezing into one of the pairs that had been sitting in his closet since he’d moved out. But then again, that would require braving his closet, a task he wasn’t up to just yet.

A knock on the door pulled his attention. Jellybean- no, J.B., he had to keep reminding himself- stood there in the doorway, a smirk affixed to her lips. “You really need to branch out, Jughead. There’s better music than all this sad crap.”

“Hey, put some respect on Mazzy Star’s name. Maybe they’re not Pink Floyd, but they have an audience.”

“Yeah, you and Mom and a bunch of other depressed gay people,” she scoffed, before looking over the clothes sitting on Jughead’s bed. “What are you doing?”

“Veronica wants us to go to some beach house with her this weekend.”

“And she didn’t invite me?”

“Sorry, Punky. Core four only.”

“It’s so lame when you guys call yourself stuff like that,” Jellybean informed Jughead. “Can I help you pack?”

“Only if you promise to stop making fun of my music.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said, taking a seat on the corner of his bed. “So, Archie’s gonna be there?”

“He’s the fourth,” Jughead replied, matter-of-factly. In all reality, he considered himself to be the fourth of the group. He was the one on the outskirts, he was the one always hovering behind, like a ghost of friendships past.

“He came into the shop the other day, with that hunk of junk jeloppy. He’s a sucker for trying to keep that thing running anymore --- he’s still hot though.”

“Jesus, J.B.,” he scoffed. “I miss when you were too embarrassed to say stuff like that.”

J.B. snickered. “That wasn’t even bad, Plus, it’s true! He’s still hot, and I’m not afraid to say it. Unlike someone.”

“Which shirt?” Jughead asked, hoping to change the subject as he held up two t-shirts: one white and one gray.

“They’re virtually the same, bub.”

“Humor me.”

“The white.”

Jughead folded the shirt and slipped it into his backpack. When she realized he already had a start, J.B. reached over and grabbed his bag.

“Hey, nosey,” Jughead said, attempting to snatch it back.

“Why’re you bringing this to the beach?” she asked, unfurling a charcoal colored cardigan he’d used to line the bottom of the backpack.

“It’s an old, colonial house. It’s probably drafty,” he said in defense of his decision.

“It wouldn’t kill you to get a little sun.”

“I will. But consider it a residual habit of a vagrant teen. I like to have my bases covered,” he said, only half getting at the truth. Because the truth was, it was something of a security blanket to him, to have layers to shrink behind. Jughead had always found comfort in a thick layer of fabric wrapped around him, it was a type of armor against the world at large. There was something to read into that, and the way that hiding himself as much as possible was what he found most empowering. But that was something to save for his therapist, and certainly not fodder for bickering with J.B., unless he was looking to give her something else to mock.

“Oh. Then make sure you don’t forget this,” she said, tossing him his old beanie off the nightstand.

He took it in his hands for just a moment, because, as embarrassing as his attachment to the hat was, it had been something he used to define himself for years. It had been something that bounced in and out of his luggage before he moved out to Iowa and something he had struggled not to revert back to in the years since. It was something that made him vulnerable, to let go of the persona of quirky-Muderville-hat-kid, a know-it-all and rebel with a cause, and demand space on merit alone. Being back in Riverdale, it was easy to feel like that was his place again. He had to remember the work he’d done to move on, and step out of the smoke of history that had haunted him.

“Consider yourself lucky that this is a thing of the past,” Jughead told J.B., before setting the hat down on his dresser. “I know I do.”

* * *

Jughead was glad he’d packed a cardigan from as early as the ride out to the coast. Veronica insisted on heading out with the top down, and without the cocoon of knit to wrap himself in, he’s not sure how he would have withstood the lashes of wind as they barreled down the highway. 

This though, Jughead knew. He knew how to sit in the backseat with Betty, while the radio blared and Veronica sang along at the top of her lungs. He knew Veronica’s vintage hair wrap, he knew Betty’s slicked back ponytail, and he knew Archie’s instance that a good conversation could still be had above it all. He knew how to watch his friends enjoy the open road, always the observer of their adventures.

While Jughead felt compelled to secure himself from the whipping of wind, Archie embraced it. He always had, it was a mark of his simple zest for life. Jughead was jealous sometimes. He wished he could embrace things wholeheartedly. He wished he could, without restraint, or falling into a pit of overthinking things, feel things like that. He wished he could smile with the same, unburdened simplicity.

Archie gripped the steering wheel with ease. His eyes veered off the road, to look over his friends, and he smiled, like that was enough. He laughed at Betty and Veronica’s melodramatic duet, an epic rendition of “Vacation” by the Go-Go’s and for the first time since Jughead had left Chicago, he felt at peace. In this moment, these were his friends, and their long and winding history wasn’t looming over their heads. He felt a teenage kind of invincible as he jumped in on the last chorus.


End file.
